


A Nightingale's Song

by Broken_Twisted_Lullabies



Series: Unnatural Writers Club [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Pre series, Unnatural Writers Club, canon character death, prompt: nightingale, spoilers for episode 0403 in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:11:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Twisted_Lullabies/pseuds/Broken_Twisted_Lullabies
Summary: Mary thought she'd always hate John Winchester but after getting to know him, she found he wasn't as bad as she had thought. [unnatural writer's prompt- nightingale]





	

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: Nightingale
> 
> Inspiration for this came from the scene in Romeo and Juliet with the mention of the nightingale.
> 
> Nightingale- " a bird that carries both literary and poetic symbolism. The nightingale sings of love, but it is also a symbol of the connection between love and death."

When Mary had first seen him, she couldn't stand him. John Winchester was an unlikable man with a bit of a snappish temper and reminded her too much of the hunters her father talked about once in awhile during dinner. He had a stiff posture with a dark look in his eyes and never once did she see him smile. She wasn't sure if he was in the life, a hunter like her but didn't bother to ask her father as the odds of him knowing were slim. Campbells hunted together and didn't get help from outsiders. So Mary kept away from him, unable to stand the man and John didn't seem to be bothered by that, keeping his own distance from the blonde hunter.

This had confused her friends as Mary wasn't one to dislike others, especially those she hardly knew and her friend Libby and pushed her constantly to go and actually talk to the mechanic, because without a good reason to hate him, she couldn't. But Mary refused to listen for months, the name John Winchester sour on her tongue when spoken and eyes were averted if they were walking past one another. Mary never gave him a chance, didn't see the point to because he was just too much like a hunter and Mary didn't want to be a hunter. She hated the life and John reminded her too much of it so by default she hated him, it seemed (although there were times when she realized this mentality was childish as Libby did have a point. You couldn't hate a person without having a real reason to why you hated them).

So, after a year, and a bit, Mary caved in to her friend's persistent pestering and went to visit the darn mechanic, hoping only to find something that would show Libby just how awful of a person John Winchester was. She knew the man that had cold eyes and never smiled could never be a man she liked, or even tolerated for that matter, and should anyone had told her that by tomorrow that mentality would have changed; she would have scoffed and rolled her eyes. There was nothing likeable about John Winchester.

Upon reaching the shop and entering, already she was beginning to think she was right about him. He sat stiffly on his chair at the desk, writing away at a couple of papers before him, and although tempted to leave, she pulled through because Campbells weren't cowards. They didn't get scared and wimp out while talking to foolish mechanics.

Their conversation had started off awkward and full of tension, Mary being rather blunt and John too shift and curt but as it progressed, Mary noticed the tension in his shoulders seemed to lift and there was something almost challenging, flirty if she even dared to think if it in his words and how she responded back. It was a simple question of her favourite song – which was "Hey Jude" by the Beatles—that had melted the tension completely as they learned they had similar tastes in music – John was a big fan of Led Zeppelin although he admitted the Beatles were quite good and Mary in return said how she didn't mind Zeppelin – and that perhaps there was one thing she didn't hate about John Winchester.

The Illinois native was actually not bad, and they managed to keep easy conversation between the two of them. It was then that Mary got to see past the rough exterior, and suddenly his dark blue eyes weren't so dark and cold, and his temper wasn't that short as she originally believed. John was a sweet guy, funny with a good sense of humour and seeing a different light to him, she had asked if he had ever been hunting – a rather innocent question but would immediately answer her questions about if he was in the life or not.

That question had made John shake his head, explaining that he never had and would probably never after returning from Vietnam (and Mary finally understood why his eyes were full of darkness and John was always moving like he was eyed by a predator). Despite what Mary had originally assumed of the man, John wasn't like the hunters her father talked about. His eyes held kindness, deep beneath all the horrors and he actually did smile, and it was something warm and sweet that made Mary forget everything she had originally thought about who he was as a person.

It was that day that Mary Campbell realized she didn't actually hate John Winchester.

Later, when he had to go and work on a car for a customer he had told her that they should meet up again sometime soon, because there was something different about her that he liked. Mary had smiled brightly at that, and whereas the old her from yesterday would have scrunched up her nose in disgust and storm out there at what he had said, nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

Walking out there had made her feel warm and light as a feather and Mary never wanted to feel anything less than that again. Libby had been right about John, that he wasn't as bad as she had originally thought.

That meet up at the dinner the two had a few days later turned out to be something a bit more regular and the two ended up getting closer, which neither seemed to mind. The two eventually became a couple as it only seemed reasonable with the amount of the time they spent together and all their friends gushed – or well, Mary's did – about how adorable the two were together, a match made in Heaven (talk about irony).

But while John got approval from Mary's friends, her parents were a different story, her father disapproving of John from the moment the name was brought up at the dinner table. He didn't like the idea of Mary dating a mechanic, someone not in the life, and feared she would try to leave it all behind, throw away so much potential. John only understood Mary's father didn't like the idea of his daughter dating a boy like John, a mechanic, but that hardly stopped him as John proved over and over every chance he had that he didn't just see Mary as a pretty girl. She was smart, funny, and made sure she knew that. He acted like the gentleman his mother raised him to be and Mary loved him for just who he was, not giving two craps about her parents.

John was perfect and Mary knew she loved him. It wasn't a silly infatuation but something deeper, stronger. It was true love and Mary had never felt happier being with the ex-marine. While he provided her a way out, he was so much more than that. And Mary always made sure to point that out to her parents.

So the lovers continued what they had, everything too good to be true and even when things took a turn, after the proposal (he had proposed! Oh how Mary had been overjoyed at that, spending forever with John) when a demon had killed John and her parents, forcing her to make a risky, vague deal. But she had hardly thought much of it at first because she loved John. She loved him with all her heart and one silly thing, permission into her house ten years later, hardly seemed important at the heat of the moment. All that mattered was getting John back. So she had done it, sealed the deal, and unknowingly, damned the Winchester bloodline from there on.

The couple had got married in a small church in Lawrence, the ceremony small as both had only a few friends and both not having much family – Mary had chosen to never tell John about her relatives, playing it off as they had been out of touch for ages rather than the fact they had turned against her after her parents' deaths – but the lovers were happy and nothing was more perfect. They were together and Mary, although she felt the nagging feeling of her deal at the back of her brain, knowing it would cause trouble later, couldn't find herself regretting the choice.

They found a small little house with a tree on the front lawn and it was their little slice of Heaven. It was what caused her at first to burst into tears when John handed her the key because she was finally free. Mary Winchester was no longer a Campbell and no longer had to grow up to be a hunter, raising her kids to be like her. They wouldn't be hunters, they would have childhoods full of laughter and smiles and everything she never really had.

This little house and their impala – which she hated but like how she had originally hated John, grew to love – was perfect. And she had laced fingers with John, smiling brightly because she was happy and felt safe. No monsters would come for them. Her past was the past and they had a fresh, new start away from the terrors of their old lives.

Two years into their marriage, John bought her a book of poems and although he knew Mary wasn't a big fan of poetry, told her that he read over them and found one perfect one he knew she would like. It was a poem of two lovers and a nightingale, and how it sang of their love and unity. A short, simple poem but it reminded Mary of herself and John and she smiled, taking his nervous hands in hers and kissing him softly. She loved the gift and told him just that, watching the smile she had grown to love appear on his face. And she could have sworn she heard her own nightingale singing somewhere in the night as the two stood by the open window in the spare bedroom that would eventually have a small little boy.

Everything was perfect, despite the rough patches and it wasn't until the clock struck 12 ten years since the deal did Mary realize as she was pinning to the ceiling of the nursery, wide eyes staring down at her youngest son, merely an infant, what else a nightingale's song brought.


End file.
